


isolate

by wei_wei_wei



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, I use that term very loosely, Slice of Life, haggar is a psychologist, keith is a troubled kid, this may or may not end well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wei_wei_wei/pseuds/wei_wei_wei
Summary: Shiro was presumed dead. Keith tried to follow, but failed.Lost, Keith stumbles through life, until he finds a psychologist named Haggar.





	isolate

These days, Keith’s world was moulded in with the cold wet grey of the concrete and the warm smoky words of the crowds shifting around him. The sky was stark red, but its brightness didn’t match the bleached glow of the phone in his hand. 

 

_“Galra Medical Clinic - Psychologist: Honerva Haggar”_

 

Keith committed those words on the email to memory, but even as he looked about the city he couldn’t seem to find the clinic. The place was unfamiliar to him and a far cry from his normal Thursday evening routine. He had taken a bus to the end of town, to the only psychologist that seemed content with his meagre funds. 

 

Keith’s head was clouded -as usual- but the feeling of being alone in a setting where he knew nothing of the place and people left a sense of thrilling anticipation his gut. 

 

For the first time in a long while, Keith was looking forward to this. 

 

After some time he took notice of a woman standing in front of a high-rise building. “Galra Medical Clinic”, that was the place. Seconds later, she happened to turn her head and took notice of him.

 

She introduced herself as the psychologist of the clinic, Dr Honerva Haggar. She looked somewhat unorthodox, but Keith took her word.

 

They continued inside. The interior could be described as homelike in itself, but the quaint feeling of the whole establishment put a disturbing feeling in the air. It was foreign and Keith was out of his element. Still, he only dismissed it as simple nerves and they began his appointment regardless.

 

Keith walked out feeling refreshed, and for once, cheerful. His head felt clearer and his steps felt lighter. He made another appointment as soon as possible.

 

The second time, Keith was amazed again. It was all Haggar. Her gentle words put him at ease. Once out, he felt happy for a week. Once again, he registered for another appointment. 

 

By the end of the month what was once alien had become familiar, and what Keith had once found disturbing he found comfort in his own way. He visited and listened to Haggar's words as often as possible- usually once a week, but enough that the high of it wouldn’t fizzle out. He had found a new home in Haggar's words as she encouraged and lifted his spirits week after week. Her enrapturing voice strung out and rung high until it folded into his hair and caressed his ears. 

 

Keith was maddened by it.

 

One particular appointment which stood out to him happened after the anniversary of Shiro’s death. Needless to say, for Keith the past week had not been kind to him.

 

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the phrase, ‘your body is a temple?’” Dr. Haggar began, her fingers winding into each other. “Allow me to simplify that further, and call your body— your mind, a singular room.”

 

“Your symptoms, as well as what you have told me, let’s think of them as aspects of your ‘room’. Namely, you say that you had problems with keeping in contact with others, especially after Shiro died… when you took an attempt on your life.”

 

Keith nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable. 

 

“Okay, picture your room. Your relationships, they could be the furniture. Others support you as well as each other, and your room is not as much of a room without them. People are integral to your life.”

 

Keith followed along, the familiar feeling of one of Dr. Haggar’s commonplace analogies washing over him.

 

“Now, let’s picture the activity and thoughts of your brain, the electrical currents which move back and forth, as a lightbulb in this room. I know it sounds strange, but for now picture this lightbulb as your brain.”

 

He did so, and she continued.

 

“If the lightbulb dies,” she clapped and Keith flinched, “You are put into darkness. This is depression. It is not only feelings of sadness, but the lack of correct brain activity. In times like these, your feelings of hopelessness leading to your own attempt… make complete sense.”

 

The shrill white noise of the clinic cut through his consciousness. 

 

Keith looked right into Dr. Haggar’s gaping irises and into the intimate peace-like kaleidoscope inside. She smiled.

 

“Death is the brightest thing in the room when there is no other light. Your logic was sound. Please keep that in mind.” 

 

They ended the session as usual, and Keith asked for another appointment.

 

But this time it was different. It had all begun well and good, Dr. Haggar quelling his worries in her usual, anecdote-heavy fashion. Then Keith had to go and mess it up.

 

His anxiousness had annoyed Dr. Haggar into anger.

 

To Keith’s dismay she refused to talk to him and stalked out of the room, her parting words, “You are by far my worst patient. I’m serious, do not come to another session again.” still ringing in his ears. She slammed the door and from beyond he could hear some choice words shouted out into reception.

 

Keith felt rejected, and while he wasn’t considering asking for another appointment, he still felt horribly dismal.

 

Dr. Haggar had to be wrong. But this excuse waned further as time wore on. He couldn’t take himself back to the clinic. Keith was not so sure that Dr. Haggar would be so kind anymore. He still visited the same part of the city, but without Dr. Haggar’s words his emotions spiralled downwards after weeks of the same. Before Keith knew it, he was empty again.

 

The crowds were stifling, and Keith never wanted to see Haggar again.

 

He continued past the hushed fanfare of feet on the pathway. Ignored the tinkling of cutlery from late night restaurants. The suburbs began where the city died and dropped-off. Keith could see the maroon horizon out, rising past the dusty sidewalks and high rise buildings. The desert looked a lot like the sea, only petrified and looming. 

 

Nobody was there.

 

Cold, hard sand crunched under his shoes. It was a Thursday evening at the far end of the late night shopping hours and an immeasurable distance from Dr. Haggar’s clean-cut clinic or the noisy chorus of people’s voices. It was serene without sanction. 

 

But for him, it wasn’t enough.


End file.
